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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27413269">at the end of it all (we're still here)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/hidefromeveryone/pseuds/hidefromeveryone'>hidefromeveryone</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Character Study, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Dean Winchester, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 22:42:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,255</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27413269</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/hidefromeveryone/pseuds/hidefromeveryone</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In the beginning, the mere touch of an angel saved Dean Winchester from Hell. </p><p>In the end, it's all that's left. </p><p>(Or, Dean realizes too late what that unspoken thing between him and Cas truly meant.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>at the end of it all (we're still here)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>no sleep, only canon destiel. </p><p>apologies for any tense/grammatical errors. i had to get this out tonight.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Years ago, when Dean first discovered the raised handprint on his shoulder, he hadn't known what to believe. It had meant that something, <i>someone</i>, had saved him from Hell. An act of grace, undeserved and unwarranted for a man like him. The mark was nothing but a reminder of a kindness sent his way that he would never be worthy of knowing. Accepting its existence meant believing that his life had been worthy of salvation, an impossible truth after all the bloody failures his life had wrought.</p><p>So fogging up his bathroom mirror with every shower, covering the wound with cheap clothes and desperation, became the only actions Dean could believe in as the rogue angel Castiel entered his life with a simple whisper of trust.</p><p>Yet, as the weeks passed, the mark remained. Its presence kept the bone-deep ache of another's touch tied to him, an unwanted reminder of the pain his second chance at life kept dealing to everyone around him. Dean couldn't even manage to shake off his unwanted guardian, the angel's trenchcoat hovering behind every action he took. 

The worst part of it all arrived when the handprint finally begun healing. An unprecedented cruelty, the stain of Castiel's (no, Cas's) touch faded into a scar lined in unwarranted grace. Pain, quick to rise every time Dean's words edged into hatred, followed him long after that faint outline healed into nothing but a ghost invisible to the naked eye.</p><p>The concern Cas levied Dean's way every time this occurred left him dizzy with an emotion he couldn't bring himself to name.</p><p>In time, as cool autumn winds rustled the edges of his worn coats and buried rotten leaves in the tread of the Impala's tires, Dean learned to appreciate his second chance. He wasn't grateful, or relieved, or even happy to be alive, but the opportunity it gave him to save <i>someone</i> allowed distaste to boil out of his veins. </p><p>He had to keep doing what he'd always done, not for his own sake, but for the angel who gave up everything to save him from Hell's embrace.</p><p>So Dean ignored the ache in his shoulder every time Cas, covered in blood, relaxed against the Impala's worn seats in an act of pure trust. Pretended his chest never clenched at the absence of blame every time Dean failed, fell further away from the righteous man he was supposed to be. Tried to live comfortably with the knowledge that, after everything, Cas would be free to walk away and live a life free of the Winchesters if he pleased. </p><p>But ignorance's bliss wasn't designed to last. Its reprieve was always destined to come crashing to an end.</p><p>§</p><p>His shoulder burned with an ache Dean thought he'd forgotten long ago. A rough jerk, and its drying blood smeared on the bunker's brick wall behind him, its crimson shade fading as Dean's vision blurred the world around him into oblivion. He didn't have it within him to stop the tears from falling, the cruel reality of the moment falling into focus.</p><p>This wasn't real, couldn't be. </p><p>After everything, the cost of Dean's rebirth had finally come to pass. He'd gotten too comfortable, too complacent in the life he'd held ever since Cas decided he was worth saving. He'd forgotten the fundamental truth that he had never <i>deserved</i> it, let alone the fundamental happiness Cas's presence in his life had brought. </p><p>Dean's life, built from the ruins of an unspeakable tragedy, was always going to end as it began: devoid of the love he sought after most. Until time itself ceased to be, he would never escape that truth.</p><p>He deserved this. </p><p>But Cas being pulled into the Empty after confessing - no, after vocalizing the unspoken thing that had tied their lives together for years? All of the angel's eternal sacrifices should never have led to this.</p><p>Grinding his palms against his eyes until stars formed, Dean felt a breath catch in his throat. The sparks of blinding white light that followed failed to block out the truth. Castiel, from beginning to end, was a fallen angel because of Dean alone.</p><p>Sam was calling again, but that didn't matter, not anymore. The vibrations of his cell phone kept starting, stopping, against Dean's thigh as he fell further away from the apathy that had gripped him for so long.</p><p>Dragging his hand through the wet remains of the fresh handprint, Dean savored in the blood boiling his skin. </p><p>This was wrong, all wrong. </p><p>Before he could comprehend what was happening, Dean found his hands clawing at the brick wall the Empty had disappeared through, his fingernails shredded and wrists rolling in pain. With a final punch, he allowed himself to rest on the floor once more, exhaustion blooming in his mind.</p><p>Even hours later, when his jacket had been removed and discarded across the room without a second thought, the pain remained. </p><p>The mark was back, and the handprint would never leave Dean again. It wasn't a curse, but a blessing now. The sole reminder of the only unconditional love Dean had ever known. </p><p>§</p><p>Sam found him the next morning, Jack hovering in the doorway with an expression Dean couldn't begin to pick apart because the only thing he could focus on was the way Sam's brow folded into a natural expression of concern. His questions inquiring into Dean's wellbeing remained unanswered. The worry only deepened until Sam's gaze finally caught, hesitated, on the discarded jacket on the dungeon's floor. </p><p>The silence was unbearable, more than anything else, when Sam brought the garment into his hands and examined the stained handprint. Dean closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath before folding further into himself, nails piercing his palms as he repressed the anger swelling in his chest. </p><p>It was his turn to self-destruct. Projecting this failure onto anyone else would be too great a sin, even for him.</p><p>Moments passed, or minutes. Jack's sneakers, tarnished by flecks of mud on the white vinyl, eventually shuffled into Dean's line of sight. The rust of the Earth matched the blood dried beneath his fingernails, so Dean doesn't stop the laugh that's bubbling out of his throat because isn't that just <i>hilarious</i>.</p><p>"This wasn't your fault, Dean." Jack's crouched beside him with eyes full of unbridled concern.</p><p>"Sure. Believe whatever you want, kid." An emotion too close to heartbreak clouded Dean's words. Relishing in that pain, allowing the truth to ruin his voice, remained a better option than the silence that would otherwise stretch between them. 

Finally meeting Jack's gaze, Dean found that the only emotion waiting for him was guilt.

"Did you know?" It escaped before rational thought could enter Dean's brain, let alone caution. Now wasn't the time for forced answers.</p><p>Sam stalled in his examination of the blood stained on the walls, remnants of Dean's frantic attempt to — well, to accomplish something other than accepting Cas's fate. He glanced towards Dean before a frown carved a solemn expression onto his face. </p><p>"Yes," Jack said. "I knew."</p><p>What else was there to say? To clarify or force into reality? </p><p>No words could rectify Dean's failure to stop Cas's death. Again.</p><p>Dean forced his body into action, bones grinding further into dust as he left the room and disappeared into the Bunker's labyrinth. If Sam and Jack followed, he couldn't bring what remained of himself to notice or care.</p><p>Before long, he found a remnant of Cas in the library, an old record he picked up from a thrift shop one night of old western tunes that reminded him of Dean. Shattered vinyl, embedded in his palms and scattered across the floor beneath him, that's what <i>Dean deserved</i>. </p><p>Never love. </p><p>He barely made it to the Impala before hyperventilating, kicking her tires with an anger he hadn't truly felt in years over, and over, and over again until Sam's hand on his shoulder forced Dean to return to the bunker once more.</p><p>§</p><p>Days passed before Sam asked, Jack finally having filled him in on the full details surrounding Cas's sacrifice. </p><p>"So, what sealed the deal? What could have possibly qualified as 'true happiness' for the Empty?"</p><p>Silence stretched between them over the kitchen table, Dean's head slightly tilted in acknowledgement of the question.</p><p>He knew what his brother wanted to hear, but he still couldn't bring himself to say it.</p><p>Settling on "I think you already know" was easier.</p><p>Sam, too entangled in sorrow to convey true exasperation, still allowed a sigh to escape. "What did you say?" </p><p>"Nothing that mattered."</p><p>"So, he doesn't know?"</p><p>"Know <i>what</i>, Sam?" </p><p>"That you loved him?" </p><p>Dean, pressing his knuckles deep into his shoulder, relished in the phantom ache his own touch brought as the long-healed mark burned at the mere remembrance of its existence. "Does it matter?" </p><p>Sam's frown deepened as Dean left the room. </p><p>§</p><p>Praying, finally easier than breathing, left Dean hollow after weeks of silence. The lack of Cas's ruffled feathers and tousled hair manifesting at his side was still, after all this time, perhaps the worst ache he'd ever known. </p><p>§ </p><p>Inexplicably, killing God was the easiest thing Dean had ever done. </p><p>The fight, Chuck's final attempt to right his flawed story, was over mere minutes after it began. </p><p>They'd saved everyone.</p><p>Sam drew him into a hug, arms holding Dean tight and tethered to reality as mumbled talk of victory, rest, and peace filled the air.</p><p>Dean hummed, allowed his eyes to slide shut as he dropped to his knees.</p><p>The sound of Cas's wings, him manifesting beside them, never occurred as the world restored itself around them. Silence, stretched too thin, accompanied the brothers as Sam led Dean away from all that remained.</p><p>§</p><p>Jack found him in the dungeon months later, sitting in front of the wall where the Empty had absorbed Cas. Palms flat again the brick, the last remains of the blood Dean had left behind that night in his anger remained hidden. </p><p>Waiting for Dean to acknowledge his presence was a fool's game, so Jack tilted his head and spoke. "We've found a way." </p><p>Dean closed his eyes before biting through his lip. "And?" </p><p>"It might work."</p><p>"Okay."</p><p>§</p><p>Dean's hand stretched through the edge of the Empty with nothing but a vague hope guiding its entry. Willing this, beyond all else, to succeed. He couldn't feel the lingering nerves anyone, the anxiety that had found a home in his bones disappearing as the rest of his body clung to the dungeon's wall beside the sheer darkness opening up before him.</p><p>Failure wasn't an option this time.</p><p>With a deep breath, Dean forced the rest of his body into the Empty and left the memory of the bunker far behind him.</p><p>It's overwhelming in a way that Heaven, Hell, even Purgatory could never have hoped to be. The absence of everything, save his ragged breathing and rapidly fading vision in the black abyss, left Dean hollow beyond any measure he'd ever known.</p><p>Praying, one last time, for Cas to return to him was the only thing left to do. It's a shot in the dark, his final chance for true salvation. </p><p>Not for him, never Dean, because he still doesn't deserve the initial grace Cas allowed him all those years ago.</p><p>The need to repay the only true kindness he'd ever known without a single thought of thanks ever passing through Cas's mind was the only thing that mattered now.</p><p>But the prayers failed. Because Sam's voice, hardened with determination and the hope that Dean could still be pulled away from the Empty before his soul becomes entwined with its depths in a way that could never be undone, was pulling his body back toward Earth. </p><p>For a moment more, Dean allowed himself to revel in his pleas, his body fading.</p><p>"I can't do this without you, man. So please, Cas, just come back to us. To <i>me</i>. Because I - I love you, too. I need you more than you could ever know and the thought of you rotting in here for eternity kills me. You said yourself that everything I've ever done has been out of love, so believe me when I say that I wouldn't lie to you. Not now, not ever."</p><p>There's a hand on his shoulder. It doesn't burn, or ache, just clenches tightly as Dean's pulled out of the Empty. </p><p>§</p><p>Dean cried, for the first time since Cas uttered the three words they'd left unspoken, when he opened his eyes in the bunker to find Cas lying on the ground beside him. </p><p>Rather than allowing himself to remain still on the cement, the exhaustion nestled within every corner of his body threatening to overtake him, Dean closed the distance between them as Cas's eyes opened. Entangling his bruised hands in the angel's trenchcoat was the easiest thing Dean's ever done. </p><p>The only man Dean ever trusted to believe he's still good placed a single kiss on his forehead before finally pressing one against his lips. </p><p>§</p><p>Come morning, waking found Dean curled around Cas in an exhausted embrace, their bodies entangled on the dungeon's floor. The faded paint of the Devil's Trap beneath them, fading in and out of his vision's focus, no longer mattered to him. </p><p>For once, Dean's life wasn't stained in tragedy and was worth living for. </p><p>The touch of Cas's hand on his shoulder is filled with nothing but warmth and comfort. Dean, gently shaking Cas awake, finally stops running and allows himself to be loved.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>tumblr: @hidefromeveryone </p><p>pls come scream with me. i waited more than a decade for this.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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